


When Ravens Dream

by AGreatAndTerribleBeing (PhoenixFoxfire)



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Dreams, Dreamsharing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 04:58:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15678492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixFoxfire/pseuds/AGreatAndTerribleBeing
Summary: It's one year later, and Julian still sees Asra in his dreams. The raven still shimmers with his aura, and Julian can't forget.





	When Ravens Dream

**Author's Note:**

> This was beta-read by [Northern_Artixan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northern_Artixan/pseuds/Northern_Artixan) and I appreciate every last bit of it.

It's the end of the day, and Julian feels a familiar pit of dread in his stomach at the prospect of sleeping. Most nights, he tries to keep himself awake as long as he can. The fear of nightmares and haunting memories lurks wherever he tries to rest his head. So he preoccupies himself with a bottomless cup, drinking until he passes out. But tonight, he’s found a shabby little inn where he can buy a decent room for a bit of coin. He’s slept in worse places before but sometimes he craves the comfort and warmth of a proper bed. He hopes that’s enough to chase away the nightmares just this once.

As he undresses, he gently drapes his shirt over a chair, sliding off the garters holding up his boots and wresting his feet out of them. He organizes those by the chair too, focusing on keeping things neat and in order. His mind doesn't wander as much when he has to focus. When he's left only in his trousers, he grabs his coin purse, reaching inside to count what he has until the next time he feels like gambling a bit. Amongst the coins, his fingers brush against a familiar piece of wood, and even as his heart breaks in his chest for the millionth time, he pulls it out to stare at it. If he tries hard enough to recall how Asra’s aura felt to be around he can sometimes feel the ghostly remnants of his magic. It was that same magic that terrified him but never failed to draw him back in. His curiosity always got the best of him and he couldn’t stay away from the enigma that was Asra.

It’s been a year since he last saw Asra, and he wonders what the magician is doing. Probably not crying over some stupid little statue, Julian thinks as he lies down in bed, bird still in hand. He's probably fine, actually. After all, it wasn’t like he’d given two fucks about what happened to Julian, and just because Julian’s world had revolved around Asra like he was the goddamned sun didn’t mean that Asra had felt anything at all. Julian wonders sometimes if Asra even noticed that he was gone. If he did, he certainly didn’t act like he cared. Had he ever? Julian aches something fierce at the thought. It’s been a year, and he still feels as raw as he did the day he’d realized that he was just something Asra had done on a whim. It wasn’t like Julian thought Asra had loved him, when they started. He knew he didn’t, Asra had told him he couldn’t give him everything and Julian had been fine with that because it was Asra. If he could have had even a little piece of him, he would have treasured it ever so dearly. But it wasn’t like he’d thought Asra had hated him either. Or thought so little of him. His hand tightens on the little raven figurine. Maybe that’s why he kept this, as some last shred of hope that at some point, Asra had thought of him fondly. Thought of him as a friend. His eyes slip shut, tears brimming just behind the lids. 

_Asra._

Sometimes the pain Julian feels just remembering his name makes him want to scream. He would have given anything to Asra, and had given plenty. He'd fallen so very hard, not just for his beauty but for his wit and his creativity. For the way he would lounge in a nest of pillows in the library even if sometimes Julian thought he was wasting time. For the care he showed Nadia, the way his eyes crinkled shut when he laughed, the way he'd brush his curls away from his face if he was reading something particularly intriguing. Even for his magic, magic that Julian had never understood. Magic he had been scared of but that he'd slowly gotten more curious about. When Asra used his magic, he got this little glow about him, like everything in the world was right to him. Julian had come to appreciate that beauty, which in turn pleased Asra. Every day Julian thought about how things could have been different, what he could have said, done to make Asra return his feelings. But it was never meant to be, he knew that. He knew that, and yet he still felt disappointment and hurt. All those long nights of wrestling with his expectations, forcing himself not to touch or hold him unless Asra initiated it, forcing back his wildest daydreams, they'd done nothing to quell his hope that Asra might love him one day. It's his own fault that he hurts so bad, and he knows it, but it doesn't make him less angry. 

It doesn't make him fall out of love with Asra, either. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t stamp out these feelings for the other man. Beneath all his anger and hurt he still longs to have Asra back in his life.

When he opens his eyes again, he's lucid in a dream, and a colorful one at that. Everywhere he looks is different shades of bright purples, reds, oranges, and blues. The whole landscape feels alive somehow, like there’s something shimmering just beneath the surface. When he looks around, he gets the feeling that things are changing when he’s not looking. It gives him a stab of nostalgia, but it isn't until he sees a familiar glimpse of white hair that he realizes why. 

“Out of all the dreams I could have had tonight, it had to have been one of you,” Julian groans. 

The figure seated in the sand bolts up, violet eyes wide. He nearly gets tangled in his multi-colored coat, and Julian could almost laugh at how uncharacteristically out of sorts Asra is at that very moment. “Ilya,” the magician says incredulously. “What are you doing here?”

Julian snorts a little, moving closer, crossing his arms. “It’s my dream,” he said. “Where the hell else would I be?” He has no patience right now to indulge dream-Asra. This is his own subconscious, there's no need to pretend any differently. 

Asra is still giving him a wide-eyed look, before it turns to something more inscrutable. “Thinking about me before you go to sleep, Ilya?” he asks, almost sounding like he's teasing, and Julian wants to scream. Sometimes his dreams with Asra are blissful, idyllic remnants of what they could've been. What he wanted them to be. No, he supposes. They could never have been that. But other times, they're a sort of unique nightmare. One where Asra is cruel and taunting. Reminders that Asra didn't care for him. That it had always been in Julian’s head. A reminder that Julian was worthless as a friend and a lover. Hell, he wasn't even a good brother. He hasn't seen Pasha since he left. He hasn't been around to see her grow up.

Figures, even in his lucid dream, he wouldn't be able to control which depiction of Asra he got. The magician was too fickle for that. 

Brushing the thoughts away, Julian shuffles through the sand, not bothering to disguise his expression. It’s bitter, hurt, and angry. He almost glares at the mirage when he looks up. “As it happens, I was,” he scoffs, and his fingers tighten around the raven figurine he’d forgotten was in his hand. He looks down in surprise, before his expression turns into something sadder. Before he can dwell on it though, Asra has cut the distance between them, smirk on his face. They’re almost touching, and Julian is lost in how familiar this dance is. Asra stands just a little too close, making Julian’s cheeks heat up, all the way up to his ears. It’s always been intentional, it’s not like the magician is blind. He’d been aware of Julian’s attraction well before either of them had initiated a full-blown relationship.

Julian had always wondered what Asra got out of it, if the man had known he couldn’t love Julian. What was the point of flustering him, taunting him because he was hopelessly infatuated with him, constantly flirting with him? Was it fun for him? Was it some sort of ego boost for him, knowing he had Julian hooked?

“If you wanted to see me that badly, you could have come back to Vesuvia,” Asra purrs, and he’s close enough that Julian can feel the heat of his breath against his skin as he speaks. “You’ve still got my key, don’t you? Or did you get rid of it?”

Julian’s hand twitches towards his pocket, but it’s Asra who slides his hand over his thigh, feeling the imprint of the key against his palm. 

“That’s what I thought,” he says in satisfaction. It makes Julian want to scream. They don’t do that anymore, that had ended long before Julian had been locked up in the dungeons, before Lucio was murdered.

But this is his dream, so what did reality matter? His lips curl into a grin as his arm snakes around Asra’s waist, encouraging him closer with a tug. “And what if I did?” he murmurs. “What would you do then?”

With a laugh, Asra slides a hand down Julian’s other arm. “Oh, Ilya, wouldn’t you like to know?” he murmurs. Julian swears that his fingers leave streaks of fire in their wake, heat blooming underneath his skin wherever Asra touches. His hand doesn’t stop until it meets Julian’s, and when it does, his expression turns curious. “What’s this?” he asks, fingers slipping over the wooden statue, bringing Julian’s hand up to take a look. The reminder dampens Julian’s mood a little bit, and he sighs as Asra recognizes the figurine. “The little raven I carved for you?” he asks, and there’s something in his voice that Julian can’t place. It almost sounds like wonder, and affection. When Julian speaks again, it’s soft. It’s an admission he doesn’t want to give.

“I carry this around, you know. Or, well, I guess you don't.” He holds the bird up in front of his face, staring at the slightly faded paint, thumb tracing over the beak. “I guess I just wanted to hold onto the idea that you didn't always hate me.”

Asra looks at him with that look again, the one Julian can’t decipher. “I don't hate you, Ilya,” he says, and Julian scoffs.

“Of course you'd say that,” Julian answers. “This is all a dream. You'll say whatever I want you to say.” 

Asra looks like he's going to say something more, but he stops himself. “Well then, maybe your subconscious is trying to tell you that I wouldn't hate you.”

“Oh yes. I absolutely believe that, after the curse you gave me,” Julian says, voice oozing sarcasm. 

Asra arches a brow, head tilting to the side. “Curse?” 

“Yes, curse,” Julian repeats. “The one where I can heal anybody who needs it, but I take their pain as my own? Ring any bells?” It's not like he's really talking to Asra, but damn he wishes he was. “You never did care what sort of pain I was in.” 

Frowning, Asra tenses slightly, his expression weary and a bit hurt. “Come on, Ilya, that's not true. We had different expectations from our relationship. That doesn't mean I didn't care what happened to you. You must have known you meant more to me than just a friend.”

That makes Julian deflate, and he lets himself fall back into the sand, staring up at the twilight sky. He doesn’t recognize any of the stars, and the whole tapestry seems to shimmer. “I know,” he says, hollow and numb. “I just thought maybe having a little bit of you would be okay, but I wanted more and more. I wanted to protect you.”

Asra softens too, and he sighs. “Maybe I don't need your protection.”

“You don't,” Julian agrees. “But I thought being able to protect you might prove something to you. Might make you want me too. I know I was desperate. And pathetic. So I pushed too much.” Julian slings an arm over his eyes, like maybe if he hides them he won't feel the stinging behind his lids. “And it pushed you away. The fucking opposite of what I wanted.” 

Asra doesn't say a word. He just looks to Julian, observing.

“Everything was falling apart,” Julian whispers. “I know I made you out to be much more than you were, but I needed it. I had no one. You were like a beacon, and I wanted to be close. Being with you was as brilliant as it was agonizing.” Asra was Julian’s sun. The magician’s heated smiles had tantalized him, and like Icarus he’d flown too close to that heat. It had sent him crashing back down to earth. “I guess I just kept hoping that if I was eager enough, one day it wouldn't have to be agonizing. But I couldn't - I couldn't catch your eye. Even when you were with me, it was like you were already preparing to leave at the next possible moment.” His expression is devastated as he uncovers his face, staring up once more. “I just - wanted to be enough for you.” He bites on his lip hard, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes no matter how much he tries to hold them back. “I hate that I miss you so much.” 

Sniffling, he closes his eyes. When he feels a set of arms around him, Asra laying down in the sand next to him and pulling him close, he turns into the embrace. Burying his face against Asra’s chest, he lets loose a sob. He clutches at Asra’s shirt as something falls apart inside of him. He never would have really cried in front of Asra. Whenever he thought he was getting too desperate, too pleading, he would cover it with a smile and a joke. But in a dream, he doesn't have to care about that. He can wallow in the misery he'd faced, of what happened during the plague, of his ill-fated tryst with Asra, of the fog he's been in ever since he ran from his death. 

“It's all gone to shit,” he says, his throat too thick. “I can't remember what happened, I know I was dying, and looking for a cure, and - and they say I killed Lucio but I don't remember, _I don't remember._ ” He gasps for breath between his sobs, shuddering with his whole body, feeling Asra’s grip tighten. “And at night - I can barely sleep, all there is is nightmares. All the way down. I close my eyes and all I can see is what they made me do. I - all those experiments -” He breaks off, hugging Asra tighter, his grief all-consuming. When he babbles on, he's hardly aware of his words, but he's desperately confessing what he considered his crimes, loving Asra too much and participating in Valdemar’s gruesome experiments and failing to find a cure for the plague. 

It's a long while before he’s calm. His grief wears him out, and he slowly comes back to his senses. His eyes are red-rimmed, and he goes lax. Asra is stroking his back, he hasn't said a word all this time, but his expression is tight. Like he’s holding back words upon words. His cheeks are slightly damp, too, and his violet eyes are a little glassy. It reminds Julian that this is a dream, Asra would never let Julian see him cry. He always had such a tight hold on himself. 

“I wish you were here,” Julian mumbles, still pressed against Asra’s chest. The magician could soothe him, maybe give him answers. 

“I’m here right now,” Asra murmurs, and Julian gives a sad noise. 

“This is just a dream. I'll wake up and you'll be gone.” Julian thinks if he could at least wake up to Asra’s warmth, things might be a little different. 

Asra looks pained, and he purses his lips. “Where are you, Ilya? Tell me where and I’ll come find you.” 

Julian gives a sad laugh. “God, I wish you could,” he whispers, staring up at Asra. This dream-Asra has such a convincing look of pain on his face, like he would really walk right out of Julian’s dream and back into his life. Reaching out, Julian cups his cheek, leaning up to kiss him. Just to remember what it felt like.

“I love you,” he whispers as they part, words he never dared to say to Asra’s face. It's safe here, what could happen here? “I love you so much. I have for so long.” 

“I know you do,” Asra says sadly. “I think it's almost time for you to wake, Ilya. Just - hold on, alright?” 

Julian gives a smile, but there's no joy in it. “I'd rather stay here with you,” he says, and he's rewarded by Asra leaning in, kissing him lightly and nuzzling his nose. At least the end of this dream was alright. 

“Hold on for me, Ilya,” Asra whispers again. “This isn't the end.”

Julian nods a little, feeling the dream begin to fade. “Alright,” he mumbles, savoring the last few moments of Asra’s arms around him.

When he wakes, he's still clutching onto the little raven. Sighing, he rubs his eyes. “Hold on,” he says softly, shaking his head. Everything in him aches for the feeling of Asra’s embrace once again. Eventually, he swings his legs off the bed, stretching, preparing himself for the next day. As he leaves the bedroom, he tilts his head up, trying to carry the warmth of the dream with him even as it slips through his grasp like sand.

**Author's Note:**

> My beta-reader is also working on a piece of art for this, so hopefully that will be up in the future!
> 
> I really hope the implication that this isn't actually a dream, Julian just thinks it is, came across.
> 
> Thanks for reading, let me know what you think!


End file.
